


A Parrish's Promise

by nikkiixo



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 03:51:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2135964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiixo/pseuds/nikkiixo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Adam Parrish was told that his father had died of a heart attack, he was strangely surprised. He hadn’t even known his dad had a heart."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Parrish's Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> For more of my fics check out my blog
> 
> flawlessokay-okay.tumblr.com

When Adam Parrish was told that his father had died of a heart attack, he was strangely surprised. He hadn’t even known his dad had a heart.

 

            But now, as he sat in one of the many church pews of St Agnes in his hometown of Henrietta, he wondered if maybe he was wrong. Maybe, just maybe, his father had returned from prison a changed man. Adam had left Henrietta long before Robert Parrish’s release, so he couldn’t exactly be sure of the previous statement but more people than Adam had expected had shown up to his father’s funeral. The loud, obnoxious crowd to the left of him must be his dad’s bar friends; the small group in the back had to be some of his co-workers, and the people that looked vaguely familiar to Adam who occupied the front rows probably lived in the trailer park where Adam had grown up.

 

            Adam was the most interested in the person closest to the altar: his mother. Adam swallowed nervously and sunk lower into his seat in a desolate corner of the church once he concluded, after an intense period of observation, that she was indeed hunched over because she was crying, grieving over the husband she never had.

 

Maybe Adam should be crying too?

 

            But all he could think about was the very first time Robert had hit his mother. The disgust and the hate in his voice as he yelled, the sound of his fist colliding with her cheek, the pained expression on his mom’s face that transformed into sheer terror once she realized that her son had witnessed something he had never ought to, and the apologies that ensued right after Robert had promised it would never happen again.

 

Oh, but it did. It happened again.

 

And again.

 

And again.

 

Empty promises of change every time.

 

When it was Adam’s turn to be a victim to the abuse, the boy had begun making his own promises.

 

When he found himself having to wear a sweater in the midst of the Virginian heat in an attempt to hide the bruises, he promised himself he would never hit his kids.

 

When he came home after another late work shift, and still had to run to the store to stock the fridge for the upcoming week, he promised himself he would never have his kids grow up before their time.

 

When he was counting the pennies on the floor of his new apartment on top of St Agnes, and noticing that he had just barely been able to pay his tuition for the year, he promised himself he would financially support his kids until the day they didn’t need him anymore.

 

When Adam cried himself to sleep with no one to wrap his arms around him, he promised himself he would love his kids no matter what.

 

Suddenly, a very loud slamming open of the church doors tore Adam from his thoughts and interrupted the priest’s sermon. Adam, even though he knew the identity of this rude un-Catholic Catholic, decided to follow the scandalized and intrigued crowd and glance back.

 

“Of course,” he thought to himself as Ronan Lynch stood at the entrance of the church. He was clad in a dashing black suit that emphasized the sharp and defined lines of his arms and chest, and contrasted beautifully with his porcelain skin. Adam wondered how someone could look so dangerous and fragile at the same time. Ronan’s brilliant blue eyes scanned the room before meeting Adam’s and gave him _that_ smile, the one that suggested that he was doing something forbidden.

 

Even after all this time together, the sight of Ronan still took his breath away.

 

            As Ronan began walking in Adam’s direction, Adam noticed a few of the women taking a sudden interest in their appearance: smoothing out their skirts, running fingers through their hair and wiping the sweat from their face.

 

Adam snorted. If they only knew.

 

Ronan slid into the pew next to Adam whose attention was now fixed on the priest who hadn’t seemed in the slightest bothered by Ronan’s interruption moments ago.

 

“I told you to stay in the car,” Adam hissed.

 

“Why would I stay out there when all the action’s in here?” Ronan replied, smug.

 

Adam sighed.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could begin to identify the look of recognition that had etched itself on the faces of those surrounding him. If he didn’t leave now, his worst nightmare was going to come true. He shut his eyes, and prayed that the word wouldn’t get around to his mother who would be more repulsed than anything at her son’s unexpected visit.

 

Adam opened his eyes, and took a deep breath. He rested his hands in his lap where the familiar hand of Ronan Lynch found his and an overwhelming wave of relief washed over him. He entwined his fingers with his, their identical silver rings gleamed in the sunlight, and he instantly felt safer. It was as if Ronan’s grip anchored him to the earth, and life without it seemed impossible.

 

When Adam watched the cold and apathetic way his parents interacted with each other, he promised himself he would teach his kids how to love.

 xXx

When Adam and Ronan finally arrived home, the sun had already set and the moon was out. Ronan, exhausted from the long car ride, tried unsuccessfully to unlock the door to their home. After a third attempt, he swore under his breath and passed the keys to Adam whom the door always seemed to favour instead of Ronan.

 

As always, the door creaked open thanks to Adam’s magical door-opening skills. Maybe this was the door’s way of asking Ronan to stop slamming it every chance he got. If that was its goal, then it clearly wasn’t working, for Ronan slammed it shut once again when they were inside the mudroom of the house.

 

Adam removed his shoes, and ran up the carpeted stairs in the dark. When he reached the top, his hand searched the wall for a light switch. Finally his fingers distinguished the familiar shape, and with one flick, light flooded into the hallway. Unloosening the tie around his neck and discarding the jacket from his shoulders, he quietly approached the room nearest to him, careful not to trip on any of the trucks, building blocks and other questionable toys that Ronan might have pulled from his dreams.

 

Once Adam had reached the room safely, his back pressed up against the door frame, he let out a sigh of relief. His gaze glued to the tiny bed, the only identifiable thing in the dark, he headed straight for it, the plush ivory carpet softening the thud of his footsteps. He sat on the very edge of the mattress, and smiled at the small body bundled in the thousands of patterned sheets and baby blue blankets. Adam focused on the steady breathing of his sleeping son before pressing his lips to his forehead.

 

He ran his fingers through the boy’s chestnut curls and thanked God, or anyone else willing to listen, that his son had inherited the renowned Lynch hair gene because the Parrish bloodline definitely wouldn’t have given him those luscious locks.

 

The Parrish family tree couldn’t give him anything worthwhile.

 

xXx

 

“C’mere sexy,” whispered Ronan as he pulled Adam down into bed with him.

 

Adam tiredly stretched out next to Ronan, and the latter pressed himself up against Adam and began planting kisses in the hollow of the dusty blonde’s neck. Ronan’s fingers traced the curves and edges of Adam’s bare back as he continued nipping at the sensitive skin. Adam leaned his head back, gripped Ronan’s shoulders, and gently pushed him away. He justified his action by shaking his head, and then rolled over on his side to not meet Ronan’s eyes.

 

Adam chewed on his bottom lip, hoping Ronan understood, and clutched his pillow. He felt an arm drape itself onto his lower back. He heard a voice whisper into his neck. He sensed a pair of lips between his shoulder blades.  

 

Tears stung his eyes, and his heart shattered. Adam couldn’t help but mumble, “Tell me not to cry.”

 

“Don’t cry over that fucker,” Ronan said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

“I’m the worst son.”

 

“You’re the best dad.”

 

Adam’s mouth curved into a sad smile.

 

“Ronan?”

 

“...”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I fucking love you.”

 

Ronan tightened his grip around Adam’s waist, and kissed his cheek.

 

Adam was no Robert Parrish. He kept his promises.


End file.
